


Cool me down to take another round

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Kink!verse [10]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Deepthroating, Edging, Episode: s04e09 The Olive Branch, Face-Fucking, Feeding, Frottage, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV David Rose, Patrick Brewer: Service Top, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: “I just mean… you told me to think about what I’ve done, and I did. I made you wait.” He glances up at Patrick with a teasing smile, hoping he understands, and watches as recognition dawns.“And now you want me to make you wait?” Patrick confirms, and David nods quickly.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Kink!verse [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768552
Comments: 56
Kudos: 287





	Cool me down to take another round

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another kink!verse instalment! Reading the earlier stories is not required (though, as the very biased author I obviously recommend it); they stand alone and are essentially canon-compliant (just with a different first meeting and their relationship being a month longer than canon) so that folks can tap out of any kinks/fetishes/etc that aren't for them as we go.
> 
> Please assume that if you don't see something being negotiated on-screen, they've discussed it off-screen. Also, just a reminder to please not take your kink advice from fanfic. Do your research first, and not from AO3.
> 
> Title is from AC/DC.

“You’re going to sit here and think about what you’ve done,” Patrick tells him in a low voice, but there’s an almost imperceptible smirk on his lips and heat in his eyes and David knows they’re going to be okay. The way Patrick takes his face in his hands has unknotted the spiralling self-loathing and replaced it with something far more… anticipatory.

And David does think about what he's done. He thinks about it while Patrick is out getting lunch and returns with an  _ apple _ for David (which is somehow worse than him not bringing anything at all). He thinks about it while the denizens of Schitt’s Creek flood into the store pretending not to rubberneck at their reunion. He thinks about it while Patrick teases him mercilessly all day, so close but never quite touching, bending down to face the stock on the lower shelves even though David is pretty sure it’s fine. He thinks about it every time Patrick asks David for something in the tone of voice he usually reserves for the bedroom, the one that makes David want to literally bend over backwards to obey. He thinks about it, and he lip syncs his heart out, and he knows what he wants.

“David,” Patrick whispers at the end of the song, leaning forward to brush a loose strand of hair off David’s forehead. “That was…” he trails off, seemingly unable to find the words. He reaches out a hand to help him up but David stays where he is, on his knees in front of Patrick.

“I made you wait,” he says, and Patrick frowns.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re good,” he starts.

David shakes his head quickly. “No, I know,” he says, and he does. They need to talk, of course they do, just… not right now. “I just mean… you told me to think about what I’ve done, and I did. I made you wait.” He glances up at Patrick with a teasing smile, hoping he understands, and watches as recognition dawns.

“And now you want me to make you wait?” Patrick confirms, and David nods quickly.

Patrick searches his eyes for a moment. “Okay. We can— yeah. Just… come up here for a minute first?” he asks hesitantly, and this time when he holds out his hand David takes it. Patrick pulls him onto his lap and draws him in close, one hand on his lower back and the other on his jaw. David is the one who closes the gap, pressing their lips together for the first time in a week, and he has the sudden realisation that he doesn’t want to go without it this long again for—

Well. For as long as he can.

He’s never let himself think like that before — never let himself  _ hope _ like that before — and he doesn’t want to engage with it right now so he deepens the kiss a little, trying to chase the thoughts away.

“It’s okay,” Patrick whispers against his lips between kisses. “It’s okay, we’re okay, you’re here, everything’s fine.” David isn’t sure which one of them the assurances are actually meant for.

It’s not entirely clear when the mood of the kiss changes; when it goes from something languid and hopeful to desperate and filthy. But one minute he’s straddling Patrick almost lazily and the next he’s grinding frantically down into him, Patrick’s fingers scratching gently at his scalp. Then there’s a sting in the back of his head and David is being yanked backwards by his hair, stumbling awkwardly off Patrick’s lap. Patrick stands too, looking unfairly composed while David tries desperately to catch his breath, erection pressing hard against his zipper.

“Hey,” Patrick says softly. “I just need to check, first. This is something  _ you _ want, right? And not you trying to, I don’t know, punish yourself or something?”

“Oh God, no, I want it,” David says quickly, and he kind of wants to be offended but… that is absolutely the kind of idiotic thing he would have done in the past, and the whipping disaster is still fresh in his mind, so. “I just— I missed you, and I missed this, and holy fuck you telling me to  _ think about what I’ve done _ might be the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me on a long list of very hot things,” he rushes out in a breath. When Patrick doesn’t say anything for a moment, he adds, “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine. Obviously.”

Patrick smirks. “Take this into the back, David,” he says, gesturing at the chair he was sitting on.

“We have a couch, though?” David blinks, confused. But Patrick just looks at him and doesn’t say anything else, so David picks up the chair and maneuvers it carefully around the counter and through the curtain into the stockroom. He sits it in the middle of the floor and when he turns around Patrick is leaning on the wall, watching him hungrily.

“Take a seat,” is all he says, and David sits down on the chair automatically. 

Patrick pushes himself off the wall and walks right past David, pulling one of the silk scarves off the shelf before coming to stand behind him. “You’re going to damage this out later,” he murmurs in David’s ear, somehow managing to make a basic store task sound erotic as he ties the scarf around one of David’s wrists before looping it through the bars on the back of the chair and pulling it taut.

“Comfortable?” he asks quietly, and David wriggles a little bit so his shoulder isn’t at a weird angle.

“Yes,” he replies, and Patrick ties up the other wrist as well. Both arms are now behind him, hands secured to the back of the chair, but he’s still fully dressed and he has no idea what Patrick’s plan is.

Patrick walks back around to stand in front of him, trailing his fingers along David’s back and shoulder as he does so. He bends down and kisses David messily, tongue pushing its way into David’s mouth as David groans at the intrusion. After a moment Patrick pulls away and grins.

“Back in a minute,” he says lightly, and then he just  _ leaves, _ letting the curtain fall back behind him as he walks into the front of the store. David is uncomfortably hard and he squirms in his seat, trying and failing to find a bit of relief. He can hear Patrick’s voice, too muffled through the curtain to make out the words no matter how much David strains, and then Patrick stops speaking and he hears the bathroom door open and close and makes an executive decision to stop trying to listen. He hums quietly to himself and after a few minutes Patrick is back, pulling the curtain carefully into place behind him and kneeling down in front of David without a word, nudging his knees apart and carefully undoing his overskirt before moving on to the now-exposed zipper. He pulls David’s trousers open and tucks his underwear under his balls so his cock can finally burst free, and David gasps in relief. 

“Something you need, David?” Patrick asks casually. 

“You,” he whispers, more honest than he intends, but Patrick’s face softens.

“You’ve got me,” he says, just before he licks his lips and leans forward to swallow his dick down as far as he can. David moans and thrusts up, and Patrick throws a forearm over his hips to hold him down without breaking his rhythm.

And David knows it’s been a week and anything would feel good but even so, this is a grade-A, stellar, incomparable blowjob — Patrick is employing every trick that, not to put too fine a point on it, David has taught him; building up slowly, drawing it out. God, David’s going to encourage this whole  _ make me wait _ thing more often if it results in blowjobs like this. He’s just starting to feel a familiar tightening in his balls when there’s a sharp  _ tap-tap-tap _ that sounds like it’s coming from the front windows of the shop and Patrick pulls back at the sound, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Oh my God,  _ ignore it,” _ David gasps, but Patrick just smiles as he gets up and walks through the curtain without so much as a backwards glance, leaving David exposed and desperate, the promise of an orgasm ebbing away. He hears the door open and panics for half a second before he remembers that this is Patrick and Patrick wouldn’t do anything like that, not without asking first.

Patrick says something in a low voice, and— what the fuck,  _ Twyla? _ David’s sure that’s Twyla, responding. The door shuts again and Patrick’s footsteps echo across the shop floor before he appears in the doorway, styrofoam container in hand.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he says and David’s stomach reacts before his mouth can, growling loudly as the smell of hot fries hits him. 

“Asking me to choose between food and a blowjob is sadistic,” he grumbles.

Patrick smiles at him; it’s a little dangerous and a lot hot. “Oh, I’m not giving you a choice, David,” he says and David groans. He’s still hard and aching and it’s not helped at all when Patrick straddles him, rough denim rubbing up against his sensitive cock. He tries to sit still as Patrick opens the takeout container and then barks out a surprised laugh.

“Okay, I’m afraid to ask, but what could possibly be that funny about a meal from the café?” he asks and Patrick grins as he turns the container around to face him. Written on the underside of the lid is scrawled,  _ We’re all so glad you guys are back together! _

“Well, that’s…” David starts before trailing off. It’s… nice, he supposes, but also wildly disconcerting.

Patrick hums in agreement at whatever is showing on David’s face before picking up a fry and holding it in front of his lips. “Open up,” he says simply, and David glares at him. 

“Um, absolutely not,” he objects vehemently. “Hand-feeding is incorrect.”

Patrick shrugs. “Suit yourself, but I’m not untying you,” he says. “So I can feed you, or you can watch me eat. Your call,” and he pops the fry into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews. After he swallows he looks at David again, eyebrows raised. 

They stare at each other for a long moment. David blinks first, sighing as he opens his mouth, and Patrick smiles at him as he picks up another fry and holds it out, letting David lean forward and bite it out of his hand. His teeth catch the tip of one of Patrick’s fingers, and David is gratified to hear him groan quietly before he pulls his hand back. 

They sit in silence, Patrick alternating between eating and feeding David with a small, pleased smile on his face. Somehow, even though he’s sitting here tied to a chair with his cock on full display, still mostly hard thanks to Patrick’s proximity, it’s the brush of the pads of Patrick’s fingers against his lower lip every time they place a fry in his mouth that feels shockingly, achingly intimate. By the time the container is empty David is flushed and desperate for Patrick’s mouth on his, and he bites his lip as Patrick methodically cleans his fingers with a napkin before returning to David’s lap. He slides his hands into David’s hair and tugs him close so they can kiss, and kiss and kiss and kiss until David’s cock is throbbing, hot and attention-seeking between them. 

When Patrick finally slides off his lap and to his knees, David sighs with relief before yelping and jerking his hips off the chair when Patrick wraps a hand around his dick. He’s so close, thighs trembling and heat coiling low in his stomach as Patrick strokes him slowly, once, twice, and— 

Pulls his underwear back up to cover him.

“What the  _ fuck,” _ David whimpers, his breath coming in short gasps. 

“Time to go, David,” Patrick tells him, his movements calm and methodical as he pulls David’s pants back into place and with some effort, manages to refasten the zipper over his straining erection before buttoning the skirt back in place

“Go?” There’s no blood left in David’s brain to think with. “Where?”

Patrick moves to the back of the chair, untying the scarf easily and tossing it onto the couch before coming back around to help David to his feet, his hands flexing David’s fingers. “We’re going to my place,” he clarifies with a quick smile, and David bites his lip. “Unless… unless you don’t want to? It’s fine if you’d rather I took you home.”

“I just—” David squirms, embarrassed. “I can’t talk to Ray like  _ this,” _ he points out, gesturing at his crotch. The extra layer the Rick Owens have afforded him is not doing nearly enough to hide the state he’s in, turned on to the point of indecency. 

“Oh, did I not mention?” Patrick asked, faux-casual. “Ray’s not home. He’s been visiting family all week.”

“All  _ week?” _ David’s voice comes out in an embarrassing squeak. “When’s he back?”

“Tomorrow,” Patrick says. David groans, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Guess you shouldn’t have made me wait, huh?”

David’s eyes fly back to Patrick’s, looking for anger or recrimination, but his face is open and teasing. “Oh, trust me, there are lots of reasons I’m regretting that right now.”

Patrick presses close and takes David’s face in both hands, just like he did in the store earlier today, and David feels the same explosion of hope and anticipation and arousal he did then but laced with far more desperation — and that’s when he has a horrible, sinking realisation.

“Um,” he starts nervously. “You seem very… unhurried. Should I be worried? Are you not—”

Patrick cuts him off by crashing their lips together, tongues colliding. It’s a messy, frantic kiss and David moans into it, surging forward for more even as Patrick pulls away.

“David,” he murmurs, “you’re so hot.  _ This _ is so hot. It’s so hot I had to jerk off in the bathroom after ordering dinner, because otherwise I was going to pull you onto the couch and fuck you until you were screaming, and you’re the one who wanted me to make you wait.”

David sucks in a harsh breath at the mental image, remembering how he heard Patrick go into the bathroom, how he deliberately didn’t listen. If he’d tried, would he have heard Patrick’s hand moving frantically on his dick, been able to listen to his muffled gasp as he came?

“Fucking  _ fuck,” _ he groans, and Patrick grins.

“Let’s go, David,” he says. “I’m not done making you wait yet.”

David whimpers.

* * *

Patrick spends the whole drive home with his fingers stroking David’s inseam until he has to reach back and grab the headrest, panting hard as he channels all of his self-control into his grip to avoid touching himself; Patrick has no such compunctions, letting his fingers slide under the skirt until they’re trailing David’s cock where it’s trying valiantly to burst out of its confines. He lets out a shuddering breath that chokes out into something close to a sob when Patrick squeezes lightly, and thrusts up into it before he can stop himself.

“Sit still, David,” Patrick says lightly, leaving his hand where it is, as casually as he’d normally rest it on David’s knee during a drive. By the time they pull up to the curb, David’s knuckles are white and the muscles in his thighs are tense from trying to stay motionless and not seek out more pressure; he unfurls his arms slowly to remove his seatbelt, whining when Patrick takes his hand away.

Whoever invented slim fit trousers obviously never had to try getting out of a sedan after Patrick Brewer has teased them to the point of desperation. Every move David makes is fraught, the fabric rubbing on him in the most excruciatingly delicious way. He takes slow, careful steps towards the house; by the time he steps onto the porch Patrick has already unlocked the front door and is also openly laughing at him. 

They make their way up the stairs slowly. If he ignores his aching erection (which he absolutely, one hundred percent can  _ not) _ it’s actually incredibly sweet; Patrick laces their fingers together, squeezing his hand reassuringly as he strokes one thumb along David’s skin. It’s chaste, and tender, and then they step into Patrick’s bedroom and Patrick drops to his knees the second the door is closed, and David could swear the temperature in the room raises about ten degrees in two seconds. 

“Off,” Patrick says, pushing slightly at the hem of his sweater. David shimmies it carefully over his head as Patrick unlaces David’s shoes, tugging each one off carefully before he turns his attention to David’s trousers. David removes his t-shirt as Patrick gets the skirt and then pants undone, pushing them down his thighs. He braces his hands on Patrick’s shoulders as Patrick helps him step out of one leg at a time until he’s standing there in just his underwear, a nice pair of Tom Ford boxer briefs he’s almost certain are unsalvageable at this point. He’s completely certain he couldn’t care less. 

Patrick peels them down slowly, carefully, making a  _ tsk _ sound in the back of his throat when he gets them past the head of David’s dick. “David, you’ve made such a  _ mess,” _ he says softly as he pushes them down the rest of the way and oh God, the teasing, scolding tone really  _ does something _ for David and he bites his lip to try and keep himself in control. His cock is jutting furiously out in front of him, red and throbbing, and then Patrick just  _ exhales  _ and David sinks his teeth in even further to stop himself coming from literally being  _ breathed _ on, Jesus Christ. 

“Lie down on the bed, David,” Patrick tells him. “You need to calm down a bit.”

He needs to come, is what he needs, but God help him he needs to listen to Patrick more. He lies down on his back, spread out in the centre of the bed, and brings his hands up to the headboard; it’s a force of habit, but Patrick shakes his head with a smile. 

“I’m not tying you up tonight, David,” he says. “You’re going to be perfectly capable of making yourself come, and you’re going to choose not to. Not until I say you can.”

It’s very, very nearly over right then. 

David grips the headboard anyway because he doesn’t trust himself, not right now. He breathes slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, willing his body to calmness. And God, it’s hard with Patrick just standing there, his eyes raking up and down David’s body, fully dressed where David is naked and exposed. Eventually, though, he does feel more relaxed, still hard but no longer in that desperate, on-edge way. 

“Green,” he says with a smile and a shoulder shimmy, and Patrick grins at him. 

“Well done,” he murmurs, coming over to the side of the bed and reaching into the drawer to pull out the lube. He holds it out and David unhooks one hand from the headboard to take it, raising his brows in a silent question. 

“Touch yourself,” Patrick says quietly as he takes a step back from the bed. “Stop if you’re going to come.”

David uncaps the lube with shaking hands, pouring some onto his palm before wrapping it carefully around himself and fuck, even that basic touch has him raring to go. He starts stroking slowly, not wanting to hit the edge too soon, but then Patrick apparently decides he’s going to play dirty pool because he  _ starts taking his goddamn clothes off. _ And… he’s not putting on a show, not exactly, but he’s certainly not undressing as efficiently as he usually does either; his hands are distinctly lingering over the buttons of his shirt, his undershirt is removed with much more care and flexing than it warrants, there’s a long pause after he unbuttons his fly. By the time he slides his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and pulls them slowly, slowly down his legs before standing back up David has to stop, squeezing the base of his dick hard, trying to hold off.

“Good,” Patrick says softly. “Hands off, now.”

David whimpers but does as he’s told, letting go and spreading his arms out to the sides as he waits for the aching need to abate. When he’s finally able to whisper  _ green _ Patrick climbs on top of him and presses their bodies together, chest to groin with their thighs slotted in between each other. David can feel Patrick against him, hot and hard and so, so fucking good.

“Kiss me, David,” Patrick whispers, millimetres from his lips, and David has never been so happy to obey an instruction in his life. He crashes their lips together, clumsy and awkward and ungainly in his desperation but Patrick is kissing him back just as feverishly, his hands running over David’s chest, scraping fingernails over a nipple, stroking and pinching. Their hips are rocking together and David loses himself in it, he forgets, he just follows the amazing, rolling sensation, up and up and up and— 

Patrick wrenches himself away, to the foot of the bed, and David keens with the loss of both him and the orgasm. When his head clears he realises what he almost did, his eyes widening.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, but Patrick doesn’t look angry; he’s flushed, looking almost as regretful as David feels.

“Mm-hmm. What did you ask me to do, David?”

David swallows hard. “Make me wait. I forgot, it just felt too good, I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Patrick strokes his ankle. “I know, honey. I know you want to be good. I was going to make that your last one, but now I think you need a couple more. Just to remember what you’re supposed to be doing.” He tilts his head. “Okay?”

“No,” David grumbles. “But green.”

Patrick chuckles as he pushes David’s thighs up towards the ceiling. “Hold these here, please.”

David groans as he grabs his legs, pulling them back so his knees are almost hitting his chest. He knows what’s coming and sure enough, Patrick presses his lips just above the inside of David’s knee and starts sucking, using his tongue to soothe the sting. He slides his mouth up David’s thigh a couple of centimetres and bites down again as David gasps and tries desperately to keep still as Patrick forms another bruise with his teeth. And again, and again until there is a row of angry-looking hickeys marking a trail from David’s knee all the way up to his groin, the rolling pain only on one side, the other unblemished.

Patrick pushes his legs back further still and  _ spits, _ wet and messy right onto David’s hole and it’s disgusting and so fucking hot David can barely stand it. And then he settles in to start eating David out without preamble or teasing and God, Patrick’s so fucking good at this, tongue swiping and circling and pressing in and fuck, he’s so wet and open, Patrick’s opening him right up, he can feel it, feel how ready he is, he could take two fingers, maybe more— 

“Fuck, I’m close, I’m close,” he remembers just in time and Patrick pulls away, wiping his chin where it’s covered with saliva and David has to ball his hands into fists and squeeze his eyes shut before the sight can send him over the edge. Patrick is panting heavily, his hand wrapped around his dick, squeezing tightly.

It takes David a long, long time to come down from the precipice this time. Patrick doesn’t help by slowly fisting his dick as he watches David breathe, but David can’t bear to ask him to stop because God, he looks so fucking good like that, wanting and eager.

When he finally, finally chokes out “Green,” Patrick doesn’t say a word, just takes David into his mouth as far as he can and proceeds to get him a wet, messy blowjob to match his wet, messy ass. David feels filthy with it, slick and shiny as Patrick bobs his head up and down, stroking the base of David’s dick with one hand as the other caresses his thigh almost soothingly. It barely takes any time at all before David can feel the buildup again and he paws frantically at Patrick’s shoulder until he pulls off, panting; David’s hips chase him unconsciously, his dick desperate for more stimulation. Patrick looks up at him for a long moment and David stares back, knowing he looks half-crazed and not caring. 

“You’ve been so good, David,” Patrick murmurs. “I think you’ve waited long enough. Come for me, honey.” And he wraps his lips around David’s cock again. 

_ Thank you, thank you, thank you, _ David thinks, but then he feels Patrick laughing around his dick and fuck, he said it out loud, didn’t he? But who cares, who cares, certainly not David because Patrick is all wet suction and heat around him and he wants to, needs to, has permission now, Patrick wants it—

David’s back arches off the bed as he comes, a scream ripped out of his throat as he pulses and pulses into Patrick’s waiting mouth and Patrick swallows it all down. He waits for Patrick to move away but he doesn’t, he keeps licking and sucking even after the aftershocks have subsided and oh God he’s still hard,  _ he’s still hard, _ as Patrick’s tongue swirls around the head, as he pushes his lips down the shaft, when he slips his tongue out so it’s between his bottom lip and David’s cock and can drag a wet line up the vein there, how the  _ fuck _ is David still hard?

Every nerve ending is alight and so when Patrick presses two fingers to David’s sensitive hole and slides them in without hesitation it makes him jump; he cants his hips up involuntarily and Patrick chokes around his dick, rearing back with his eyes watering. 

“Fuck,” David whispers, horrified. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Patrick shakes his head. “No, it’s— it’s good, it’s — green,” he says, eyes wide with wonder, and holy fuck his voice is  _ rough, _ rough from David’s cock and he’s saying  _ green _ and David thinks he might burst into flames. And then Patrick’s fingers start moving inside him again even as his dick disappears into Patrick’s spit-slick mouth, disappears and disappears and fuck, fuck, Patrick is  _ choking himself on David’s cock.  _ David can feel Patrick’s throat muscles tensing and flexing around him as his gag reflex rebels; this time when he pulls away, spluttering, tears are pouring down his cheeks and he looks more blissed out than David has ever seen him. 

When he sinks down a third time he wraps the hand that’s not steadily finger-fucking David around David’s hip and  _ pulls _ and David can take a hint, snapping his hips up and fucking into Patrick’s waiting mouth. He brings his hands to the back of Patrick’s head, carefully and cautiously in case this is too much but Patrick moans at the touch, his eyelids fluttering shut. So David keeps his hands there, not holding but just keeping steady as he thrusts up, over and over as Patrick gags and coughs and then sucks him down again. 

David doesn’t notice the hand leaving his hip, but he does notice the way Patrick’s shoulder starts to move and fuck, holy fuck, Patrick is  _ jerking himself off while he chokes on David’s dick _ and it is, far and away, the hottest fucking thing David’s ever seen; he pushes up sharply and Patrick gags, then swallows and God, fuck, his cock is all the way down Patrick’s throat. And then Patrick’s fingers are twisting, pressing up until he can feel a pressure building, building, and then he  _ taps _ David’s prostate and David barely has time to wonder _ where the fuck did he learn that _ because he’s coming  _ again, _ he didn’t even know he could do this but Patrick made it happen, and God it  _ hurts _ but he sobs with relief and the wave of satisfaction when it’s over is deliciously, addictively intense. He sinks back into the mattress, his dick slipping free from Patrick’s mouth, finally, finally softening.

“David,” Patrick rasps and holy shit, David did that, David’s cock did that to Patrick’s voice and apparently there is still a small spark of arousal that Patrick didn’t manage to suck out of him because it sparks up in his belly. Patrick presses his cheek to David’s thigh, rasps “David” again, and David feels him shudder through his own orgasm where their skin is pressed together. Patrick all but collapses on top of David’s leg and they lie there for a long time, touching but not speaking. 

Eventually, Patrick pulls himself off the bed and half-carries a protesting David into the shower with him. They don’t have the energy to do much more than stand under the spray but that takes care of the worst of the mess, and the rest they’ll just have to deal with in the morning. They dry themselves off haphazardly and fall into bed, limbs tangling together.

“We should talk, right?” David mumbles as he burrows into Patrick’s arms. 

Patrick hums, kissing him on the forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he says, before adding so softly David’s honestly not sure if it’s meant for his ears: “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

With anyone else, the words  _ we’ll talk in the morning  _ would have struck fear into David’s heart, would have kept him awake all night with his stomach churning. But not now, not with Patrick. He can fall asleep in Patrick’s arms, safe in the knowledge that he is wanted there. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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